


It's Never Over

by unrefined_mediocrity



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Assault, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, is not fluff, they just came out to have a good time, warranted ass kicking, was intended to be fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25353163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrefined_mediocrity/pseuds/unrefined_mediocrity
Summary: Palps never did the thing.The galaxy may be at peace, but for some, the war has only chosen a new front. And the memories often win.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex/Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	It's Never Over

**Author's Note:**

> This was not the original plan, but you know how it goes. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kindness on my last post <3\. I got stuff in the works but this lil one just popped into my head so.

"See that guy over there?"

Rex's gaze drifted from the fingers idly mapping circles on Ahsoka's shoulder, following her line of vision until he spotted their target, a pale, white-blond man nursing a drink at the bar. Rex's arm, draped casually over the booth's padded edging, pulled her only slightly closer as he rested his head against her montral. 

"Blond kid?"

"Yeah." He felt her lips hum lightly against his collarbone as she turned into his touch, her legs sliding gently into his lap. "He seems interested in at least one of us."

Rex gave the man another glance and chuckled. "Want me to invite him over? He might buy us drinks if we ask nicely." 

"You know," Ahsoka laughed, cool hands reaching up to trace his jaw, "I think I'd rather keep him jealous."

Rex smiled into her kiss, his free hand settling on her waist as she pushed them deeper into the booth. He'd hardly expected to survive his first battle, let alone the entire war _._ And he'd certainly never expected any sort of life after the war's end. What was he, after all, if not a soldier? The Republic apparently agreed, because he and his brothers were still conscripted into service, albeit on less violent terms. They had some options, now, and government housing, and benefits setting them up for the promise of a distant future. 

And he had her. _Ahsoka._ Rex pulled back just enough to travel to her neck, ignoring the high collar of her tunic which threatened to get in his way. Of all the impossibilities Rex faced, the hardest to accept had been Ahsoka's love for him. How could she possibly choose _him,_ a _clone_ , when the entire galaxy was within her reach? He was never meant to be any more than an obedient killer, never meant to feel anything for anyone. Most days, he felt unworthy. And even after some nights, the guilt lingered. 

But she was here, even with her obligations to the military and the Jedi severed, and Rex hoped to never make her regret it. 

"Let's head home," he felt more than heard her murmur as she brought his lips back to hers. He couldn't help the smile that split his face, effectively breaking their kiss despite Ahsoka's efforts. _Home._

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you say that," he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple. "Let me get the bill and then we'll head out." 

"sounds good." She offered him one last kiss before sliding out of the booth. "I'm just gonna use the 'fresher before we leave. I'll meet you by the hallway."

Rex left a credit chip for the busboy and headed for the bar. This place was no 79's, but the food was good, the prices were better, and the staff was friendly enough. Plus, sometimes the two of them needed time away from the eyes of their brothers. Those who were left, at least. 

Rex chatted with the bartender,a Twi'lek male, for a few minutes before making his way toward the 'freshers. They were situated at the end of a winding hallway, which didn't seem optimal, but minimal spacing on Coruscant didn't often allow for ideal architecture. When he couldn't see Ahsoka at the hall's opening, he pushed through the dimly lit crowd, ignoring the shadowed couples and budding fights. There was probably a line; he'd just wait for her by the 'fresher door.

He came to a sharp turn in the hall, and was about to continue when he heard the echo of Ahsoka's voice, carrying with it a tone he knew all too well. Silencing his footsteps, Rex pressed himself into the nearly darkened corner, searching for the source of that dangerous voice. A few seconds passed before he spotted her through the trickle of patrons, drawn to her full height and staring down the man who had her backed against the hallway's end. The same man who'd been eyeing them from the bar. 

Still on quieted feet, Rex began to weave through the crowd, his gaze locked on the man's back. He knew damn well Ahsoka could kill that man in seconds, but he wasn't about to let the bastard give her a reason. His pace quickened as the man crept closer, only for Ahsoka to step forward and hiss something inaudible in his face. She was ready to attack, her frame already tensing in a fighting stance, when the man lurched forward, his hands grabbing hold of her twin lekku and squeezing. _Hard._ And something in Rex _snapped._

Ahsoka's cry was drowned by a fierce pounding that seared through his body, and the rest of the hall was crossed in an instant. Fingers twisted in white curls and wrenched back, pulling the man away from Ahsoka before slamming him once, twice, three times into the adjacent durasteel wall. The second impact elicited a satisfying _crack,_ followed by a crunching on the third that turned the man's screams into burgundy stained splutters. Rex's own hands grew slick as the man was thrown to the ground, barely conscious against the heavy fists that snapped his head back and forth. There was no thinking, no reasoning, only the reddening image of his cyar'ikain pain, violated by the man twitching beneath him.

His mind pulled him back to Zygerria, where he'd watched as Ahsoka was beaten and abused, thrown in a cage like some animal to be used for the slaver's intents. He saw the Trandoshans, and the pirates, and every other lowlife who had dared to raise their hands against her, tainting her dreams even years after their own demise. She didn't deserve another face haunting her, another set of hands ghosting across her skin. Rex hadn't been able to make the others pay; he'd be sure this one did. 

His right fist shot back, ready to force shattered cartilage into brain tissue, when he felt cold fingers pull desperately at his forearm. The touch sent him tunneling into reality, where he practically fell onto Ahsoka as he recoiled against the gurgling crimson mess beneath him. Most of the patrons were gone, save for a few callous individuals cutting through the scene and mumbling about the new state of their boots. He immediately turned to Ahsoka, who knelt hunched toward the ground, her hands gripping the spasming lekku. Involuntary tears rolled off the tip of her nose as convulsions raced through her body. She was lucky the pain hadn't sent her into shock. 

"Oh, cyar'ika," he rasped, bringing a slick hand to rest on Ahsoka's spine. "I'm so sorry."

He barely registered the heavy footsteps echoing in the halls. "What the _hell-"_

The bartender. Rex's only sign of acknowledgement was a quick glance over his shoulder. "The man assaulted her," he growled. "Grabbed her lekku. You don't _do_ that; it's- it's like-"

"I know." The bartender knelt beside them, his smooth accent souring with disgust. "My wife survived the enslavement of the Kiros colonists. It is the worst abuse a Togruta can endure."

Rex could only nod, his hands trembling as he pulled Ahsoka closer to his chest. The Twi'lek rose to his feet and grabbed a fistful of the attacker's matted curls. "Do not concern yourself with the floor. I will be back with towels if you will move her to the 'fresher."

The man made little effort to free himself as he was dragged out of sight, still spluttering with enough desperation to make Rex's stomach turn. He wasn't a violent man; a soldier, yes, with deadly accuracy, but never without control. Never after anything more than a swift end. Never after blood.

The war was, technically, over; there was no fight anymore. Yet somehow, he was breaking more in its absence than he ever did in the midst of things. Perhaps he was finally in a position to be vulnerable, to process instead of survive. 

_But I almost killed him._ Rex cursed himself for his blurring vision as he gently scooped Ahsoka into his arms and carried her into the 'fresher. She let out a sigh when the cool durasteel floor made contact with her legs, and immediately slumped onto her back as soon as Rex let her go. 

He tried to mask the quavering in his voice. "Y'know, cyar'ika, that floor has to be filthy."

The tremors had stopped, but her ivory markings remained furrowed. "Feels good. I'll shower later."

"Alright." Rex eased himself off the floor and headed toward the sinks. GAR training had served him well; a few of his knuckles were beginning to bruise, but none of the blood seemed to belong to him. He waited until the water ran clear, then wiped the stray specks of crimson and sweat off his face and forced his eyes to dry. His pain could wait.

The bartender returned with an armful of towels, which he handed to Rex before slipping off. Rex ran them under the coldest water the taps could offer, making sure to wring out some of the excess fluid. He then resumed his place beside her and ran a light knuckle down the side of her cheek. 

"Would it help if I wrapped these around them? They're cold...ish."

Ahsoka eyed the towels and strained forward. "I can do it."

"I know," he murmured, guiding her shoulder down with his free hand. "It's okay. I got it."

She threw him a feeble pout before resuming her original position, her muscles taut in preparation. Even with Rex's gentlest touch, she couldn't stifle a hiss of pain as he lifted the tender tissue just enough to slide the fabric underneath. As he folded the towel over, he felt shaky fingers grasp at his bicep. 

"Rex."

Light tears danced across her lashes and trailed down the sides of her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her lips trembling with each syllable. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-"

" _No,_ Ahsoka." Tears that were supposed to be at bay crept back into his vision. His hand reached across to cup her cheek. "This isn't your fault. _None_ of this is your fault-"

 _"Yes it is!"_ She swiped at his traveling hand, knocking it aside. "I saw it _coming,_ Rex," she sobbed. "I sensed it. I knew _exactly_ what he was about to do, and I _froze!"_ She lurched forward, her face inches from his. "He started to move, and suddenly I was back in that stupid palace, with that _monster,_ and I couldn't- I couldn't stop him! _Either_ of them!And we were enjoying our night, and I _fucked_ it up, and-" her face sank into her open palms, "-the war is supposed to be _over!"_

They both knew that, for them, it never would be.

"Ahsoka," he choked, pulling at her wrists so he could cradle her face, "you didn't ruin _anything._ This wasn't your fault. None of it. I don't _care_ how strong you are in the force; what he did to you was _horrible._ What the _galaxy_ has done to you is horrible, I-"

He buried his face in the dip of her montrals as she melted into his chest. "Oh, cyar'ika," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

_I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner. i'm sorry the galaxy ever laid hands on you. I'm sorry you had to fight in the first place. And now they won't leave you alone._

"I'm so sorry."


End file.
